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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24964852">Alone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgic_breton_girl/pseuds/nostalgic_breton_girl'>nostalgic_breton_girl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Arcane University, Gen, Mages Guild, Post-Oblivion Crisis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:49:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,244</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24964852</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgic_breton_girl/pseuds/nostalgic_breton_girl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the prompt 'Alone', for my Arch-Mage Julianne Traven. Set after the Oblivion Crisis, and shortly following the assassination of High Chancellor Ocato, this short fic deals with Julianne's quandaries after the Empire pulls its funding from the Mages' Guild.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Alone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>F.A.O. Julianne Traven, Arch-Mage, Arcane University</em>
</p><p>
  <em>From the desk of Sulinus Nigellus, Imperial Commission, Cyrodiil City</em>
</p><p>
  <em>This letter is to advise you of the final decision concerning Guild funding. It had been decided that the Guild of Mages will no longer receive Imperial funding, for the reasons already discussed, commencing the 1<sup>st</sup> of Hearthfire, 4E 10...</em>
</p><p>So that was it then, the decision was made.</p><p>She had known it was imminent; indeed, it was almost understandable. The Guild of Mages was hardly the greatest of the Empire’s concerns, not in these times, and diversion of funds into political and military matters had not been discriminatory. The Fighters’ Guild was long disbanded. The High Chancellor had been the Mages’ Guild’s last champion, of sorts, and with him gone...</p><p>She had known it was imminent: that didn’t mean she had quite believed it would happen.</p><p>The news was broken quite laconically to the Council of Mages, and then to the rest of the Guild, and was received with a surprising optimism – surprising, considering the circumstances, but also given the times in which they lived. The arguments posed by those who yet held out hope, were arguments the Arch-Mage herself knew she ought to agree with. Certainly she’d championed the Guild as apolitical, as functioning quite apart from Imperial matters; certainly she had never been one to give up hope. But Julianne Traven’s characteristic optimism had, for the past ten years or so, been wearing rather thin.</p><p>‘I am sure we can still function without Imperial funding,’ said Raminus, at the Council meeting: ‘we exist only in Cyrodiil now, after all. It’s a smaller enterprise.’</p><p>‘There’s that, I suppose,’ murmured Julianne: ‘a bittersweet consequence...’</p><p>‘There are likely several things we can cut back on,’ put in Bothiel. ‘And we take in our own subs, after all. If we are short of money, we can always raise the subs.’</p><p>‘That would be a shame,’ said Julianne, ‘but, if necessary, I suppose...’</p><p>She had, on becoming Arch-Mage, specifically lowered the subscription fee, to open the Guild’s doors to more people; she had been proud of the change, and indeed it had been among her most popular.</p><p>‘Really,’ went on Raminus: ‘I don’t think we should see this as an end. It requires reorganisation, nothing more. We can do it, if we put our minds to it.’</p><p>‘I hope you are right,’ said Julianne, and absently crumpled the letter of earlier between her fingers. ‘We can go it alone... we <em>have</em> to!’</p><hr/><p>It was a good while now since Julianne had last gone punting, but it seemed quite the evening for it; and so she and Tara-Lei gently guided their boat out to Wellspring Island, settled upon the beach there, and sat together on the sand.</p><p> It had always been their favourite view: the sun setting the water aflame, and warming the towering white walls of the City; the Arcane University in the centre of this vista, the centre of the world almost, for its own tower was from here rather taller than White-Gold beyond. It had been a joy, those summers, ages ago, to come out here, see the City from its finest angle...</p><p>This evening was different, of course it was different. One might forget one’s work, in such a place; cast off the scholarly trials of the day, the smell of ink; – one cannot so easily forget that the Mages’ Guild is close to death.</p><p>‘We look isolated,’ said Julianne at length: ‘I’ve never seen that before.’</p><p>‘The University, you mean?’</p><p>It had ever sat apart from the City, upon its island; but that had been a point of pride before, their quirk. They were not really that far from the bustle of the metropolis, they were not that different...</p><p>‘Did you want to talk about... or...’</p><p>Julianne dug her fingers into the sand, leaned back, did not look at Tara.</p><p>‘I don’t know,’ she said: ‘I don’t know. Really I don’t... Hmm.’</p><p>‘I think we are all bewildered,’ Tara reassured her: ‘and I don’t think anyone expects you to act quickly, or without having the space to think.’</p><p>‘No, I know that,’ said Julianne: ‘but really, we saw all of this coming a mile off, and... well. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be Arch-Mage when it happened. I’m still not sure I do.’</p><p>‘You think you’ll step down?’</p><p>Julianne caught a note of unintentional horror in her friend’s voice; she smiled a little, without much humour.</p><p>‘It seems cruel, to put all this mess into someone else’s hands... and people still look to me for guidance, I think. No... I’ll try to carry on, for a bit. Maybe Father can help me.’</p><p>‘If there’s anyone who knows about steering the Guild through a crisis, it’s him.’</p><p>‘Isn’t it just?’</p><p>The summer was nearly over, the nights were clouding early; the western horizon was still bright, but there was a shadow on their side, and the University bridge was already dark. The lights upon the University buildings – some of them firelit, pretty glowing lamps; some of them magical, iridescent figures – served only to emphasise the isolation of the University from the City, this isolation which Julianne could not help but dwell upon.</p><p>‘I said earlier we’d go it alone,’ she said: ‘and it’s bothering me, now I think on it.’</p><p>‘How so?’</p><p>‘Well – it’s just us left. Cyrodiil, I mean. No Kvatch, any more. Bruma never really recovered. Membership is falling; we haven’t had new members in months; people are starting to distrust mages, they say –’</p><p>‘That’s more in the provinces,’ said Tara: ‘Skyrim, I think.’</p><p>‘I just... well, I wonder how long we can last, as the Cyrodiil guild. But that’s not the only thing, there’s... Well, the Mages’ Guild isn’t supposed to be isolationist. That’s the opposite of our purpose. If we’re not careful, our University island will become another Artæum, and –’</p><p>‘You are exaggerating, I think. We can still offer Guild-services to the citizens of Cyrodiil.’</p><p>‘But it’s not the <em>same</em>...’</p><p>She was usually so eloquent; now her words failed, her eyes must tell all. Those eyes, dulled even in the reflected sunset, and looking out towards that darkened bridge, the lonely University –</p><p>‘We can do it,’ said Tara: ‘I didn't think you were pessimistic.’</p><p>‘Oh! I try not to be, but... I feel... I feel <em>alone</em>,’ she murmured.</p><p>And even as Tara shuffled closer to her, put an arm about her shoulders, she felt the Arch-Mage tremble, and stifle a sob; she brought her friend closer, dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.</p><p>‘You’re not alone,’ said Tara: ‘you’re far from alone. What was it you said, when you became Arch-Mage? – that we are all fellows, in the Guild? – It doesn’t matter what has happened, I am sure that that still holds.’</p><p>Julianne tried to smile, in her friend’s embrace.</p><p>‘Tara, you’re a <em>darling</em>...’</p><p>And she looked back, across Rumare... The sun was below the horizon now, the City and the University were aglow with light. She looked once again towards the bridge, that horrid dark bridge: and to her surprise, she saw something there – a torchlight, a solitary walker, lighting their way across, and dispelling those shadows which she had seen there before, which had so terrified her.</p><p>‘Perhaps you’re right,’ she said, and stood. ‘I don’t have to go it alone. We’re still here, despite everything. We can do it. We can do it... Oh! we <em>must</em>!...’</p>
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